Rerun
by Amelia Strange
Summary: You know what they say, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Why exactly does what happened to Claire and Jack happen to Michael and Connie?
1. Crash

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Law and order characters mentioned in this story.**

Connie was driving home from work when her car started acting up. She was three streets away from home when the darn thing died in the middle of an intersection.

She tried turning the key in the ignition, but nothing would work. She wasn't particularly worried. She just call Mike and he would come pick her up. She began dialing his number on her cellphone and didn't notice the approaching headlights.

"Hi Mike," she said, "it's me-"

Twisting metal was all anyone heard for blocks around. Connie's car spun from the impact, and she was thrown several meters away.

As she landed on the sidewalk, she felt life begin to slip away from her. She was in so much pain. She tried to open her mouth to scream, but she could only gargle. She couldn't move. She knew that she was as good as dead. But why couldn't Mike be there to hold her hand, to make the unbearable suffering go away? As the darkness increased, she thought back through some memorable moments of the past few days.

She and Mike were sitting in the office, looking over documents of a case they were prosecuting. As they scanned and occasionally winced (this one was a tough quadruple homicide) a thought occurred to Connie.

"You know what prosecuting cases like this really does to you?" she asked Mike.

"What?" said Mike, not looking up from his page.

"It makes you realize how fragile life really is," Connie said. "I mean, look at these people. They were all young, vibrant and in the prime of their lives. What if it was you? What if it was me?"

Michael shook his head. "Connie, I don't want to think about impending doom when we're getting married in six weeks. I'm already getting enough hypothetical death situations from Jack, as he's reminding me about the last serious relationship in the Manhattan District Attorney's Office…"

Connie laughed. "I'm a better driver than Claire Kincaid was. And my car works."

"That old clunker?" Mike said. "I'd watch your back. And you know what else I think Connie? This death stuff is crap. We're here. Why not enjoy it?" As he said this, Mike picked Connie up bridal style and kissed her.

Connie laughed and kissed Mike again. "Carpe Diem," she said.

Her next memory was from later the previous evening. She and Mike were in bed together. He was sound asleep, but she had just woken up from a very bad dream.

Her dead grandmother was yelling at her! "You must hold on to life tight! You don't have much time! You don't have much time!!"

"Grandma, what do you mean?" Connie was confused. (And she'd always hated her grandmother.

"I'll see you soon." Her grandma said, and disappeared.

Connie was lying in bed, confused. Did her grandma mean to say that she would die? Why would she say see you soon? Connie hadn't seen her since she was nine years old.

Connie sighed, and remembered what Mike had told her about living for today. She put the dream out of her head and fell asleep.

The final memory was from only twenty minutes before the crash. Mike had insisted on walking her to her car.

"Mike," she had said, "I'll be fine, I promise!"

"New York is a rough city," said Mike. "If this was Westchester I wouldn't bother."

Connie laughed.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come home with you?" Mike said. "We can work on that file in the morning."

"No," said Connie, "you stay and catch a murderer. I'm so tired I can barely keep my head up."

"Fine," Mike said, and he kissed her passionately, elicting some cheers from random passerbys.

Connie rolled her eyes. "Some people have no disccretion," Connie said. "See you in a couple hours." She got in her car and drove away.

Now, as she lay dying, all of her thoughts were on Mike. This would destroy him. They would never spend their lives together, as they had so often planned and she'd often dreamed about. Breathing became laborious and black spots began to cloud her vision. The last thing she saw was the man that hit her climb out of his car and try to flee the scene. The last thing she heard was sirens screaming.

By the time she was lifted on to a stretcher, she was already gone.


	2. Grief

**The standard disclaimer applies.**

Jack McCoy was sitting in his office when the phone rang. The caller ID said that it was his friend at St. Anne's, Dr. George Wallace.

"Why do your ADA's keep on ending up here, Jack?" the voice on the other end of the line said.

"What do you mean, George?" Jack said, although he already had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

"First there was Claire," said Dr. Wallace, "then that Borgia girl, and now this one. Her name is Connie Rubirosa. DOA after a nasty fender bender with some guy who had a little too much to drink. He's locked up at the 27th precinct. Charge him with murder, will you Jack? Anyhow, we can't find her next of kin. I was hoping you could help me with that part."

"Her family is all dead ," said Jack, "but her fiancee works two offices over."

"Wow. She was sleeping with her boss too?"

"You know what they say," Jack said, "those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

"She would have been happy to be taken out of her misery," the doctor said. "She was thrown almost ten feet, multiple fractures, hematomas, and after about five minutes, one of her ribs popped her heart."

"Maybe we can get together sometime and discuss this," said Jack, "But I have to go tell a man his fiancee just suffered a cruel and unusual death." He hung up the phone.

It was only at this moment that he realized how hard it must have been for Adam to tell him about Claire. While Jack had never hinted at the fact they were involved, it was pretty obvious. Why do the best things happen to the worst people?

_I'll need a drink when I get home after this conversation,_ thought Jack.

Michael Cutter was so engrossed in his case, Jack had to knock several times before just giving up and opening the door.

"Hey Jack," Mike said, "I just found the evidence to catch this bastard! Here, come take a look."

"I'm not here about your case," Jack said flatly.

"Then why are you here?" asked Mike. The look on Jack's face however, told him that something was wrong.

"It's about Connie," Jack said. "She was driving home, and some druck SOB hit her. She was a DOA at the hospital."

There was a strained silence between the two men.

"Jack," Mike said, "the hypothetical death situations aren't funny anymore. And it's not April Fool's day, either. Please don't joke with me about this kind of thing."

"No," said Jack sadly, "this is all very much real. I'm so sorry Mike."

"No," said Mike, almost yelling now. He look ed at his Blackberry and saw that there was a message. "This phone message is from Connie," said Mike. "She's probably just calling to tell me she got home safe. I'll put it on speaker so you can hear." Mike was still shaking his head. No. Jack had to be lying. They were getting married for Christ's sake.

"Hi Mike," the message said, "I'm-" and then the sound of twisting metal was all that could be heard.

"The doctors at St. Anne's don't lie," said Jack.

Mike's face crumpled. "Was it quick? Did she suffer?"

Jack nodded. "Took her five minutes to die."

Michael began to sob. Jack remembered how he wished that Adam could console him after Claire's death. So he got up, gave Mike a hug and shed some tears of his own for Connie Rubirosa.


End file.
